


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by Tru_tru



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fuck Or Die, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tru_tru/pseuds/Tru_tru
Summary: "Geralt! By the gods, stop! Tell me what is going on!”Geralt stopped in his tracks. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.“It wasn’t a harpy.” He managed. “It was a succubus.”Or the one where Geralt is bitten by a succubus and all smutty hell breaks loose.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 287





	Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer- I have never read the Witcher books or played the games, so I know shit all about the mythology/geography of this world. I'm just a humble gay who wanted to make these two dumb boys fuck.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a pleasant evening, as far as evenings went when traveling with an adorably temperamental Witcher- primarily because said Witcher was currently off in the forest monster hunting, leaving Jaskier alone to set up camp. Much as he had _wanted_ to be with Geralt as he stalked his latest meal ticket, by the time they had reached the as yet unknown creature’s stomping grounds the sun had already been low on the horizon.

Geralt was utterly indifferent to the dark, of course, thanks to his heightened mutant senses, but Jaskier was simply not that adaptable. He was fine to sit this one out if it meant avoiding almost certain death.

A waxing moon began to rise as Jaskier worked on building up a fire. Even in spring, the night air was cool enough to warrant one, and he wanted to make sure Geralt had some kind of beacon to find his way back to camp (even if he might not _technically_ need it, Jaskier maintained to himself that there was nothing wrong with the gesture). 

Tonight, ‘camp’ was a little clearing by the mouth of a cave, just deep enough that it would provide adequate shelter should the weather turn. The sky was clear at the moment though, so he spread his blankets down on the ground between the fire and the cave’s entrance. 

Roach stood nearby, loosely tethered to a walnut tree and happily munching on whatever greenery the ground beneath her hooves provided. Her contentment put Jaskier at ease- she was a better alarm system than anything magic or machine could fashion. Her ability to sense an incoming threat, be it man or monster, was second only to that of her rider’s. Jaskier had even attempted to write a song about it, but so far ‘The Wisdom of the Wonder-Mare” had garnered very little interest.

No matter- he had plenty of other wells to draw from- their current adventure, for instance. Geralt had been called to a little town several miles east of Vizima where young men had begun disappearing about once a month, all while on their way to the city on some business or other.

No bodies had found, leaving speculation as to the cause fairly open-ended, but one rather cankerous old man who’s coin made up about a third of Geralt’s total fee was dead set that it was a harpy- primarily because he had been attacked by one on the road from Vizima once as a child. But given this had been an isolated incident several decades ago, Geralt wasn’t so sure.

Still, it was enough for Jaskier to work with until the actual culprit was found. He settled himself against the mouth of the cave with his lute as he tried to think of words that rhymed with ‘harpy’.

It wasn’t easy. He was just about ready to give up when he heard rustling from the surrounding forest. Fear spiked in his gut. He looked to Roach but she had done little more than twitch her ears forward- not exactly a panicked reaction, and if she wasn’t worried it probably meant…

“Fucking… _fuck_.”

It was Geralt, stomping his feet angrily and tearing aside protruding foliage as if it had done him some great personal grievance.

He emerged, sweaty and cursing, but free of any monster guts as far as Jaskier could see. He set his lute aside, instinctively wanting to help, even if he wasn’t sure yet just what the problem was.

“I’m guessing things didn’t exactly go to plan, did they?” He tried to keep his tone compassionate- perhaps Geralt had found something and tried to fight, but the thing had run off instead. It had happened before and always pissed him off.

Geralt didn’t even look at him, just threw down his swords and started to tear at the buckles of his leather armor.

“It wasn’t. A fucking. Harpy.” He spat through clenched teeth. Jaskier stood up.

“Well, you suspected as much.” He replied warily. The Witcher seemed…feverish. He could see sweat beading on his forehead, and though it may have been the glow of the fire, his color seemed a bit off. Geralt didn’t say anything else, just kept pulling off bits of his protective gear like they were causing him pain.

“Geralt?” Jaskier moved toward his friend. Now down to his undershirt and trousers, he finally looked at the bard, his ruggedly handsome features twisted with anger and…something else. 

Finally free of his armor, he started moving across the clearing slowly.

“Jaskier,” He began. His gaze was intense, almost piercing, and it made Jaskier’s stomach clench. For a moment he wondered if he was, in fact, in danger- not from any monster, but from the Witcher himself. Which is why the man’s next words startled him so completely.

“Your…affections,” He began, his voice low, his breathing somewhat labored. “They are not…limited to women.” 

“Wh-what?” Jaskier spluttered. He hadn’t even put it as a question, just a statement of fact. He wasn’t _wrong_ necessarily, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing the two men had ever discussed. And even if they had, what possible reason could he have for bringing it up now, in the middle of what Jaskier was beginning to suspect was some kind of nervous breakdown.

“What has that got to do with anything?” The Witcher kept moving forward, still breathing unnaturally hard.

“And you find me attractive.” He continued as if Jaskier had not spoken. Jaskier balked.

“Well, _now_ look who’s gotten a big head.” Geralt was past the fire now, getting ever closer, but Jaskier’s pride was not so easily punctured. “Even if you were my type- which I’m not saying you are- the smell _alone—”_

“Stop, Jaskier!” The Witcher barked, then immediately lowered his voice to its usual smoky growl. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve smelt lust on you more times than I can count. Don’t deny it.”

Suddenly Jaskier found himself pressed up against the wall of rock near the cave’s entrance- through all of Geralt’s advances, Jaskier’s body had been slowly retreating of its own accord. Now there was nowhere left to go, barely an arm’s width of space between them now.

The cool stone gave him a moment to think and he threw his hands in front of him.

“Geralt! By the gods, stop! Tell me what is going on!” Even if this was some sort of temporary insanity, he wasn’t afraid of Geralt, not really, but he was confused and shaken enough to be angry, and that seemed to do the trick.

Geralt stopped in his tracks. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It wasn’t a harpy.” He managed. “It was a succubus.”

“A succubus,” Jaskier repeated, trying to remind himself what legends he had heard about the creatures. He recalled bits of lewd jokes told by tavern patrons, but he had never paid them much attention. Geralt, his eyes still closed, filled in the blanks.

“They’re a race of female demons. One bite from a succubus will drive an ordinary man insane with lust. Even if he can find a…partner…relief is only temporary. Once the venom is in the bloodstream, death is…inevitable.”

It was only then that Jaskier noticed the tiny bloodstain on the collar of Geralt’s shirt. He followed the trickle of red to its source- a set of puncture marks, right under Geralt’s left ear.

A bite. From a succubus.

The Witcher continued to speak.

“I am _not_ an ordinary man, Jaskier. The bite won’t kill me. Even if I am left… _untreated_ …the pain will only last for a day or two.”

“Untreated. Meaning…” Jaskier looked down and _by all the gods_ how had he not noticed before? Geralt’s cock strained against his leather trousers. And the size of it… Jaskier’s mouth began to water.

 _Of course_ he wanted Geralt. He’d wanted him since the moment they met. But he wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew friendship was the most he could ever hope for from the man- a strange and inconsistent friendship at that.

But that had been enough for him. Sure, he had the odd dream or fantasy, but that was all it could ever be. 

And yet…

Geralt finally opened his eyes. They burned bright, even as the light from the nearby fire cast his face in shadows, traveling across Jaskier’s face, up to his hair and then down to his neck before finally settling on his partially open mouth. 

His breathing had turned shallow. Whatever self-control he had been holding onto was slipping. His next words were soft, barely above a whisper, but they slammed into Jaskier’s body like a cannonball.

“Let me fuck you Jaskier. Please.”

He couldn’t speak. Arousal was flooding his body, hardening his cock and robbing his mind of any coherent thoughts.

Insanity. That’s what this was- utter insanity. There were reasons- so, _so_ many reasons- that this was a terrible idea, but as Geralt loomed, large and beautiful above him, he couldn’t seem to recall what any of them were.

“I…we…” Was all he managed as Geralt pressed his body flush up against Jaskier’s, pinning him to the wall of rock, yet still keeping his hands at his sides. Desperate as he was, he was still waiting for permission. He bent his head lower and soon Jaskier could feel the man’s hot breath against his neck.

“Please…” He whispered again, the word fairly burning as it traveled across his skin. With that the last of his reservations crumbled- he had wanted this for too long to deny himself any longer.

“Oh, fuck it.” He muttered, grabbing Geralt’s head with both hands and pulling him into a blistering kiss.


End file.
